


Family First

by InTheShadows



Series: oh god... there's more of you [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Along with various other characters, Amnesia, Amnesiac Tony, And So is Sherlock, Crossover, Gen, Hurt Tony Stark, John is just along for the ride, M/M, Mycroft is a Good Bro, The Other Holmes - Freeform, Tony Speaks French, clint is so done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 08:29:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4870130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheShadows/pseuds/InTheShadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tony wakes up in a hospital with no recent memory and surrounded by strangers, all he wants is his brother. He may not get along well with him, but he has always protected him. Of course he knows that isn't going to happen. No one knows that he isn't an only child and they want to keep it that way. Turns out, though, there are more important things than secrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family First

**Author's Note:**

> All italicized words are words spoken in French because I wasn't subjecting anyone to Google translate (either to figure out what was being said or to wince at the horrible translation).

Tony wakes up to an annoying beeping sound – heart monitor.

Once he identifies the sound, he freezes, assessing the situation. Heart monitor meant hospital, but nothing in his recent memory indicated that he should have need to be in the hospital. The last thing he remembered was coming home a day before the start school again. He hadn't been doing anything dangerous. He hadn't been sick when he left the Manor, he hadn't pulled any dangerous stunts, he hadn't even been anywhere near Howard's lab. Did something happen at school and he didn't remember?

Possibly.

He opens his eyes to assess the situation farther and almost sends himself into a panic attack. His body... is a lot bigger than he remembers, with a glowing piece of machinery in his chest. Moving the covers out of the way, he takes a good look at himself. Alright, so his last memory was when he was eleven. He looks to be in his thirties now. His body feels fine except for a massive headache, so that excludes the possibility of a coma. Although the chest addition disturbed him more than a little.

Likelihood of a concussion and amnesia – probably.

He looks around the room for more clues when someone walks in and Tony freezes again. The man is obviously a scientist, but... he squints to get a better look at him and promptly groans. Headache. Right. The ideal thing would be to get some more painkillers, but Tony has always hated those. They make his brain feel funny.

The scientist looks up sharply from the chart he had been reading when he hears Tony. “Tony,” relief colors his voice, “you're awake. Thank god. How do you feel?”

“ _Headache,_ ” Tony complains, noting the familiar tone the man uses. He obviously knows him.

“What?” he asks.

What? Do these people not... wait... “ _I'm not speaking English am I? No, obvious, don't answer that_ ” he pauses and takes a deep breath, “ _how about, no, alright so apparently English isn't going to work right now. And you don't know French. Awesome._ ”

“Umm, I'm going to assume you can't speak English right now.”

Tony nods.

“Right. So, how do you feel?”

Tony taps his head and grimaces.

“Headache?”

Nod.

“Makes sense. Is it bad enough to need painkillers?”

He shakes his head. Interesting, obviously a close friend to ask that question. Tony doesn't tell many people about his dislike of painkillers.

“Alright. Well you definitely have a concussion. That's expected from the nose dive you took into the building in the fight. Steve is waiting to chew you out for that, by the way. But other than that you seem fine, excluding the various bruising. The rest of the team will be here shortly.” He sits down in the chair heavily. “Thank god,” he repeats.

Tony looks at him questioningly.

“You've been unconscious for two weeks.”

Okay, so coma, but not long enough to go from eleven to thirty something – same difference.

“We've been a little tense since the battle. You should probably get some more sleep before they get here.”

Tony nods and closes his eye, pretending to follow the advice. But internally he is trying to keep a panic attack at bay. What is going on? Fight? Nose dive into a building? Team? He needs more data. He desperately needs more data before he starts to hyperventilate.

He can't calm himself down even though he should, he should, he has more control than this, emotions are useless, control should be easy, he's done it before, but he needs data, needs to know what is going on, doesn't know these people, doesn't want them, he wants... oh god, all he wants is his brother right now, but he can't have him, can't, secret, never tell, important, not a child, shouldn't need him, oh god My–

“Tony?”

Tony jerks away at the touch.

“Are you alright?” asks the scientist, doctor too, he was looking at Tony's chart earlier, friend, but Tony doesn't _know_ him and he doesn't _want_ him and–

Tony moves away from him. “ _Don't touch me,_ ” he snarls.

“Okay, Tony, it's okay. Is it your head?”

Tony shakes it and regrets the movement, but he has to get his point across, doesn't want any contact and–

And right then more people walk in – four in total – this team the scientist/doctor/something else had mentioned obviously . Tony's eye snap to them, taking them all in. Three males, one female.

The female is Russian, assassin, no, no longer assassin, but trained, raised assassin and now a fighter – agent? – guns and knives on her, sharp, observant.

The male beside her – close, partners, may or may not be romantically involved, but close – also agent? – same line of work, callouses on hand – bow as weapon, sharp eyes, also observant.

The large blonde male, tall, muscular, hammer as weapon, odd ruins, not native, not from here – odd very odd and... no, yes, no, yes, yes... alien, possibly – need more data, acts dumber than is, but still confused regularly.

The other blonde male also tall, muscular, not from here and... god fucking damn it Captain America – how is he alive, it has to be him, not a substitute, how is he _alive_ ? What is going on? No way he is _actually_ right, but he has to be because... damn it!

“Friend Tony!” booms blonde number one, “You have awakened from your injured slumber! It is most gladdening to see you recovered.”

Yeah, definitely not from here. Tony winces.

“Inside voice Thor,” Captain America –?– says gently.

And Thor? _Thor?!_ Tony swears to god that if that is the actual god of Thunder he is having his god damn panic attack, maturity and control be damned.

“Hey Tin Head, you stupid idiot, how are you?” the archers asks.

Tony shakes his head. Oh no, he is not talking to any of these lunatics, no way, no how. _No._

“Tony?” the man beside him inquires. “Are you sure it's just your head that is bothering you?”

He reaches out to touch again and Tony backs away again. No, no, no, not this again. “ _I said, don't touch me!_ ”

“You know French?” the Captain asks.

“ _Yes you idiot, I speak French. Genius here, it's not like English is the only language I know._ ”

“But why are you speaking in it?”

“ _Because I thought it'd be fun? What do you think?_ ”

The not assassin speaks. “You can't speak English right now.”

“ _Give the woman a prize. How about a pony?_ ”

“Friend Tony, why do you speak like this? Are you not glad–”

“ _Buddy, right now I'm not glad for much. Now I want to see a damn doctor because obviously that's the only way to get out of here without you people creating a stampede so I want one and then I getting the hell out of here and you_ –” Tony cuts himself off because he is starting to shake too hard. Damn it, he doesn't want this, he's panicking, he hates when he panics, there is nothing productive about it, there isn't, but he wants...

“What is the last thing you remember?” asks the female assassin.

“ _Why do you care?_ ”

She stalks closer. “You are acting petulant Stark, answer the question.”

Like hell. “ _No._ ”

“Tell. Me.” She is in striking distance.

Tony flips her.

Everyone stares at him, including the assassin.

“Where the hell did _that_ come from?!” the archer asks incredulously, “Where the hell?”

“ _Practice,_ ” he answers obviously. What, do they think he is completely helpless or what?

“Stark–” the red headed menace starts threateningly.

Then–

“ _Really Anthony, must you be so crude? There are much better ways to evade then resorting to violence,_ ” a voice chastises.

Tony looks over and before his brain can process the command, he is out of bed and into the man's arms. “ _Brother,_ ” he whispers gratefully, not even caring of the consequences. All he wanted was his big brother and he is _here._

“ _Come Anthony, back to bed,_ ” he leads him gently, supporting him because, yeah, two weeks in bed will take a lot out of a person. He helps him in and allows him to cuddle up against his chest. “ _What it wrong, brother dear?_ ” he asks, even though Tony is sure he knows.

“ _I don't remember. I obviously_ _should_ _know them, they know me, but I don't know them and they keep trying to touch me and my body doesn't match my memories and_ –”

“ _Shush Anthony. Calm down._ ”

He takes a few deep, shuddering breaths.

“ _Good. Now how far back do you remember?_ ”

“ _I had just gotten home after the fireworks incident._ ”

“ _Ah yes, that incident,_ ” his lips twitch, “ _and nothing afterward._ ”

Tony shakes his head, even though it was more statement than question.

“ _You have lost twenty five years brother dear. I believe that would be a source of disorientation._ ” He strokes Tony's hair gently.

The archer makes a noise.

Tony looks over at him. His face is an odd pale color and he looks like he has had a data overload.

“Is there a problem Agent Barton?” his brother inquires.

“Oh my god, you're Mycroft Holmes, Ice Man and I don't even–” He hides his face in his hands.

His brother looks amused, although Tony is sure only he – and maybe the assassin – can tell.

“ _Shall I assume you have made a name for yourself in these twenty five years brother?_ ” Tony smirks.

“ _Do not be a brat Anthony._ ”

“ _Too late._ ”

Mycroft gives a deep, long, why-me sigh. Drama queen.

“Friend Tony, why did you never tell us you had a brother?” Thor, and please don't let it be that _actual_ Thor, asks.

“ _Please don't tell me he's real,_ ” Tony begs.

“ _I regret to say he is,_ ” Mycroft replies truthfully, though looking pained to do so. “ _Or at least as close as we will ever get_ – _his brother is Loki, Father is Odin and Mother is Frigga. He comes from Asgard and speaks of the other eight realms, including calling Earth_ – _Midgard._ ”

Tony blinks. “ _And I'm supposedly on a_ _team_ _with these people? What the hell kind of team? A rock band?_ ”

Captain America (?!) snorts.

“ _One of superheroes,_ ” and his brother's tone makes his opinion clear on that, “ _You created a flying weaponized suit. I will give you a file with all of the relevant information as soon as it is done compiling._ ”

Tony nods.

“Excuse me?”

“Yes Captain Rogers?” Mycroft lifts an eyebrow.

And oh god damn it it _is_ Captain America?! How is this his life right now?

He straightens “I understand why Tony kept it a secret that he has another brother – or at least I can guess. But why does Clint look like he's about to pass out from shock?”

“That is hard to say Captain. Perhaps he thinks my position is higher than it is. I merely have a minor position in the British government.”

“He _is_ the British government. When he's not too busy being the British Secret Service, the CIA–“

“ _Sherlock,_ ” says Mycroft, exasperated.

“ _Lock!_ ” Tony cries.

“See how he doesn't deny it? Hello Ant.”

Tony sticks his tongue out at him.

“I'm done,” Clint announces and walks out of the room.

Sherlock grins and walks over. When he is close enough Tony lets go of Mycroft and latches onto Sherlock. Hey, he may have wanted his big brother when he was freaked, but his little brother is his favorite. He's way cooler.

Beside him stands an unassuming shorter man with short sandy blonde hair. He takes in all of the detail and announces. “ _Army doctor, good catch Lock. Although I better have known about this before now._ ”

Sherlock rolls his eyes. “Obviously Ant. This is John Watson. John, my older half brother.”

John snorts. “When you told me we were going to see your brother, you might have mentioned just _who_ your brother was.”

“Boring.”

“Of course dear,” John replies dryly, “just remember us lesser mortals like some warning now and again before they are dragged across the ocean into a room filled with superheroes.”

“You are not mortal?” Thor asks.

“They only like to think so,” John says before any other of the brothers can answer. “Now, has a doctor seen you yet?”

Tony shakes his head. Nope, which he thinks is strange. Isn't he suppose to be in a hospital? Isn't that what hospitals are for? Not that he's necessarily complaining. He doesn't like doctors.

John nods, “Right. Hold still,” and proceeds to give his a thorough check over. “Well,” he says when he is done, “besides the French – and any other side affects that I haven't been informed of–”

“Post traumatic amnesia,” adds Mycroft.

“–and that, everything seems perfectly fine.”

“ _Great. When can I go home?_ ”

Sherlock translates and John snorts. “I can see the resemblance already. You just woke up from a two week long coma, at least a week. No–” he stops Tony before he can start, “when I said perfectly healthy, I meant perfectly healthy for someone who has been unconscious for two weeks _._ You cannot just go home. Got it?”

Tony pouts. “ _Spoilsport._ ”

“I don't even need a translation of that,” John tells him, amused. “Sherlock and I will be around for a while. Although how he plans on keeping himself – or you frankly – entertained without burning down the building is beyond me.”

The scientist chuckles. “I will offer my assistance. Tony may not remember me apparently, but I do know how to keep him entertained.”

“Oh good, reinforcements,” is John's reply.

“I shall endeavor to help as well, for I would not want Friend Tony to injure himself again so soon.”

John eyes the god warily.

Tony winces at the volume and nods in agreement.

“Thor, why don't you go back to the Tower for now. Tony probably shouldn't have this many visitors right after he has woken up anyways,” Captain Rogers suggests.

“I will go find Clint,” the assassin announces.

“I'll be back later if you like,” the scientist/doctor offers. “I'm sure right now you would like some familiar faces instead.”

The Captain just nods and walks out behind him.

John sits down in the vacated chair. “On a scale of one to ten, how worried should I be right now?”

“ _Worried, what's to worry about?_ ” Tony asks with a shit eating grin.

“Don't be ridiculous John, it's not like we have the supplies to blow entire building apart.”

“Not to worry Doctor Watson, I will handle them.”

All of the brothers say at the same time.

John groans. The world is going to burn.


End file.
